The Art of Conversation
by onthewayside
Summary: John needs to get something off of his chest and Elizabeth is starting to regret that she ever let him into her office in the first place...ShepWeir


**Spoilers:** None.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the characters of Stargate: Atlantis, don't make money from them either…

**Note:** I wrote this fic a long time ago and—thanks to a few days of revisiting Seasons 1 through 3—I felt an urge to return to it and tweak it a bit. It is on the sappy side, so be warned, but with the way things have gone for John and Liz, I'd like to think that they need a bit of sap. On another note, the idea for this story isn't original—I credit the idea to the many different fics (in many different genres) that have done this concept before me. Tell me what you think, and, of course, hope you enjoy reading!

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**The Art of Conversation**

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"Elizabeth, do you have a minute?"

Sure, she had a minute. Heck, she had plenty of minutes, especially since she had given up the idea of sleeping through the night hours ago. Rubbing at the ache in her strained neck, Elizabeth slid the computer pad onto the desk, leaned back in her chair and greeted the intruder with a passive smile that hid any of her true emotion whatsoever.

"Come on in, John."

He hesitated at the entrance of her office, arms crossed over his chest as though he were contemplating his next battle move and not the simple act of walking to a seat. Wondering what possible trouble he had gotten himself into to make him so wary of being within a three-foot radius of her, she raised an inquiring brow. "I'm not going to bite, if that's what you're worried about."

The hesitancy was instantly replaced with his usual cocky demeanor as he fixed her with a wry smirk. "I've been bitten one too many times today, thanks."

"If you'd listened to Ronon in the first place, you would have avoided that injury," she pointed out, her gaze landing on the large white bandage that covered his arm.

"How was I supposed to know that 'it's not a pet' meant 'the cute furry thing with the funny ears is really a demonic monster with lots of sharp little teeth'?"

" 'It's not a pet' means 'it's _not _a _pet_', no matter what galaxy you're in. You of all people should know that, particularly with your history of attracting aliens that are prone to assaulting you."

"Hey, unlike the other aliens that have attacked me, this one actually looked and acted harmless," her second-in-command replied defensively. "Even McKay thought it was kind of cute and he usually only says that about tall, attractive blondes."

"But Rodney wasn't foolish enough to try and pet it. You, on the other hand…" She trailed off, purposefully leaving her sentence unfinished. It had been hard to contain her laughter as she had stood by her ranking officer's bedside, waiting for Carson to stitch up the wound while John had argued with Rodney over the benefits of trying to befriend wild, lesser-intelligent life forms. Ronon and Teyla, of course, hadn't needed to hide their amusement and the Satedan had simple shrugged with a simple 'I told you so' when John had started complaining about the lack of warning.

"Look, if you're just going to criticize me for my attempt at being friendly to the locals, then it can wait," John griped. "I've had enough lectures from everyone today to last me a lifetime."

He did look pretty chastened, she decided, and it wouldn't do her any good to put off this conversation. The last thing she wanted was to start the next morning off with a discussion with John Sheppard on one of the many issues he had most likely caused himself.

Gesturing to the seat across from her, Elizabeth hoped she didn't look half as tired as she felt. "Don't worry, I will refrain from any lecturing on your mission. But," she warned as the smirk returned to his face, "be prepared for some kind of talking to if this conversation of yours happens to be related to your ability to attract disaster."

"Don't worry, I solemnly swear that this isn't about that wall I cracked open with the Jumper."

As quick as lightning her face fell. "What? When did this happen?"

Ignoring the chair, John settled onto the edge of her desk and his smirk grew.

"Got you. Although I'm starting to get a little disappointed with everyone's lack of faith in me. Give me some credit—at least _I_ didn't blow up a solar system."

Rolling her eyes—that particular incident, it seemed, would never get old—she leaned back into her chair as the momentary panic dissipated. "What was it you needed to talk to me about?"

He shifted in his position, glanced into her eyes then quickly looked away, seemingly finding something much more interesting to look at in the control room despite the place being deserted. "It's actually kind of…tough for me to talk about it."

"You must need talk or you wouldn't have come to my office at this time of night," she said, wondering what exactly was on his mind. They had managed to create a comfortable friendship over the last few years; she had thought they had gotten past the awkwardness of opening up to each other long ago.

Apparently, there were still topics that could render the usually chatty Lieutenant Colonel speechless. And she wasn't so sure if that was such a good thing.

Still, she was his friend, and that meant supporting him, worrying over him, and hearing him out no matter how much she wanted to clap her hands over her ears sometimes.

"John, whatever it is, I'll listen," Elizabeth continued on a softer note when she noticed the frown on his face. "I'm not here to judge you. You know you can talk to me, no matter what it's about."

"Somehow I doubt you're going to be so sympathetic when I'm done," he muttered with a derisive snort, but he did look to her from the corner of his eye. "Just promise me that you'll hear me out, no interruptions, no jokes—"

"And absolutely no lecturing," she supplied with a smile. "Now, tell me, what's on your mind?"

He paused, his eyes roving back to the control room as one of his hands absently rubbed at his chin. "It's about…women."

She waited for a moment for some sort of elaboration, but when there was none, she decided to venture forth, trying rather unsuccessfully to ignore the little painful stab in her gut as she heard the words. "Women? As in plural?"

"No, no. Not many women. Just one."

"One? Only one?"

"Hey, I thought we agreed on no mocking," John demanded, a scowl on his face as he shifted to face her. "And what do you mean by '_only_ one'?"

"You know your reputation isn't exactly squeaky clean. Do I really need to list off the many women who have appeared in your mission debriefings?" She could name them, if he asked, but she didn't really feel like ticking off the growing list of women that had been apart of her second-in-command's life since he had come to Atlantis. In fact, she didn't really want to think about them at all, if it could be helped.

They were friends and, no matter how many times she had secretly wondered what it would be like if they reached a much more intimate level, friends was how they were going to stay. And she would simply have to content herself with the knowledge that she had at least reached a part of John that all of those women hadn't—she had his respect, his trust, and most importantly, his never-failing support.

Still, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel relieved when he didn't ask for the list. Instead, he chose to pick up the pot he had given her for her birthday and roll it around in his hands as his green eyes once again focused on something in the distance. "Fine, point taken. But if you must know, there is only one woman this time. A very special woman, in fact."

"Really? Is she off-world?" She asked casually, careful to keep her face neutral while her stomach did another jerk at the thought of John finding a 'special woman' off world.

"Nope. An fellow Atlantean actually."

Somehow that wasn't any better, but she bit down on her lip to keep that particular retort from reaching her lips. "Do I know her?"

If he hadn't hidden more than half his face from her view, she might have been able to tell whether the smile that reached his lips was sarcastic or simply affectionate at the thought of this new woman.

Her chest constricted an inch more as she came to the logical conclusion that it was most likely the latter. _Why is it so hard to think that he's finally found someone here? Did you honestly think he'd ever see you as more than just a friend, more than a leader?_ _Did you really believe he might think about you the way you think about him?_

Seemingly oblivious to her reaction to the news—that, or her diplomatic background was truly serving her well once more—John continued on about his new interest.

"I think you might know her. She's beautiful—hell, she's everything a man could want. Nice, funny, a stubborn pain in the butt sometimes but no one's perfect. She's been through a lot, but somehow she can still laugh about it later."

Her traitorous mind was perusing through the various employee files that she had stocked away in her memory, trying to pinpoint a woman that matched the description. The only one she could possibly consider was Teyla, but his comment about the fact she _might _know this mystery woman was making her reconsider.

In a way, Elizabeth hoped it wasn't Teyla. She liked the Athosian, considered her a good friend, and she wouldn't want her personal, silly infatuation over a certain Lieutenant Colonel to get in the way of that friendship. Not that she would allow that to happen, mind you, but it would have made her job even tougher to pretend that she accepted the relationship that would ignite between the two. And adding that particular stress on to the ever-growing pile that was accumulating on her shoulders would have strained more than just her friendships.

With an internal sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest, training her eyes on the surface of her desk so that she didn't have to see John's wistful smile any longer. Now she was thoroughly regretting ever letting him into her office, but she reminded herself that she was his friend above all else and so should be supportive. Succumbing to the strange sparks of envy igniting in her breast would have to wait.

"She sounds like a lovely person," Elizabeth said, struggling a little more to maintain that same diplomatic façade she was so well known for. "But if she's as wonderful as you say, I can't help but ask what exactly the problem is?"

"I knew you'd get around to the interrogation sooner or later," John remarked wryly. "And I'll give you your answers, but first promise me that you won't tell _anyone_ about this."

"About everything so far? Or just your answer?"

There was a moment of contemplative silence. "You know, maybe just keep quiet about this whole conversation. I wouldn't want to give McKay any more ammo to use against me."

"Then my lips are sealed." It wasn't as if this was news she would feel happy spouting off anyhow. "But of out curiosity, what would really be at stake here if I did go ahead and mention that you've found a woman that you…care about?"

Even though her pause was brief, she hoped he wouldn't notice her fumbling for words. It was bad enough she had already mentioned the other women he had become 'acquainted' with—he didn't need any more indications that she might be a lot less comfortable with this conversation than he thought.

"Let me see, how did you so kindly put it? Oh yeah, my 'reputation' might be one thing. I'm not exactly known for having problems talking to girls."

Despite the ache that was starting to reach out through her chest, her incredulous gaze flew up to John, realizing belatedly that he was watching her rather thoughtfully. "That? _That's_ your big problem? You can't _talk_ to her?" She narrowed her eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with John Sheppard?"

"See what I mean?" He declared with a wave of his hand. "If Dr. Weir reacts that way, think about all the other geeks around here who will start laughing their asses off at me. I'd never be able to live it down."

John did have a point—and he looked so thoroughly miserable at the thought that she couldn't be so cruel as to spread the news, no matter how she much she may have wanted to make him suffer just a little bit.

"Don't worry, I'll stick to my word on keeping quiet," Elizabeth finally reassured him after a weighty pause—just enough to make him a teensy bit uncomfortable. "I can't help but wonder why you need my advice in this particular area though. I'm not exactly the poster child for relationship advice."

He absently rubbed at the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to her then to the pot still clutched in his free hand. "Actually it wasn't really my idea. I kind of went to Teyla first."

At least that cleared up any doubt she may have had about this mystery woman being the Athosian warrior. There was no way John would have sought Teyla out first if it had been her all along. Curious as to what the Athosian woman might do in situations such as this, and feeling stupidly relieved at the same time, she raised a brow. "And what kind of advice did Teyla give you?"

Giving an off-handed shrug, he went back to his intense study of the pot. Wondering what exactly could be so fascinating about the piece of pottery that he had seen many a time before, she waited patiently for his answer as curiosity and dread battled it out in her conscious.

"Well, she wasn't too helpful. She pretty much just told me to talk to you. And so here I am."

_So here you are_, she echoed in her mind, wishing that it didn't sound so harsh when the words ran through her head. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth looked at the profile of her second-in-command, the man she had managed to idiotically fall in love with. "Don't worry. I'll help you, if that's what you want."

It was his turn to look surprised as he finally put her jar down and truly looked at her for the first time since coming into her office. "Really? You're sure this won't be… weird for you?"

_Weird, no. Crushing, yes._

"I'm your friend, John," she told him with the most gracious smile she could muster. "I'm always here to help you, no matter how 'weird' the situation might be."

But much to her surprise, the Lieutenant Colonel didn't jump right into details, or start listing off the many other wonderful qualities of this new woman. He didn't even send her one of his usual playful smirks.

No, he just re-crossed his arms, tilting his head to one side as if he were studying some strange new specimen.

Confused, and feeling a bit self-conscious, Elizabeth met his gaze squarely, fervently hoping that her eyes betrayed nothing of the splintering of her heart. "So where do you want to begin?"

"Hmm." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You're the diplomat, why don't you tell me?"

"Okay, but I'm going to warn you now—I've never given this kind of advice before." Pursing her lips, she had to take another breath before continuing on one of the most tormenting speeches she had ever given. "I can tell you now though, starting right out and telling her that you think she's the most amazing woman you've ever met might be coming on a bit strong."

"So how should I start up the conversation then? And don't even suggest talking about the weather. I don't want to put her to sleep in the first five minutes."

"No, not the weather, but still, keep it casual. Your latest mission maybe—those are always interesting stories."

He seemed to brighten at the suggestion. "Yeah, that might work, you know. And I can show her this big bandage, might get me some pity points too."

"Either that or you're to make her laugh herself into hysterics," she said dryly, and was rewarded with a glare. "But it will get the conversation started none the less."

"Good, so we're talking now, she's feeling sorry for me about my arm—" He punctuated that last line with another pointed glance "—and…well, then what?"

_Oh god, this was getting harder by the second_. The ache that had risen in her chest was beginning to constrict her throat, and it was all she could do to keep her voice steady. She was starting to _really_ regret ever having agreed to this talk, especially since all she wanted to do now was get as far away from John Sheppard as she could.

But she had promised to try to help, and she was never one to back down from a promise, no matter how hard it might to keep it. So she tried her damnedest to steel her heart against the onslaught of emotion that she had a feeling would be barraging it soon.

"You could always mention how glad you are to have met her, say something about how you find her easy to talk to, how much you enjoy her company." She had to stop for a moment to keep her voice from wavering. "Something along those lines would ease the conversation towards a much more…romantic atmosphere."

"You mean something like 'I never thought I'd ever get so lucky to meet a woman like you'?"

A ghost of a smile was beginning to turn up the corners of his lips as the words she had longed to hear echoed through the room, and she came to the realization that her heart wasn't just breaking, it was shattering into tiny pieces.

"That's…that's perfect," she managed to say. "Really, John, you may not need my guidance after all."

"No, I do. It helps. Builds up my manly confidence," he added with a wink. "So, what next?"

"Well, what do you want to say?"

"I'm guessing saying 'I love you' might be a little too soon."

She hadn't thought this conversation could get any worse, but apparently her powers of deduction had been completely off. Swallowing hard against the sudden catch in her strained throat, she struggled to keep the shock from filtering onto her face, choosing to look down at her desk whilst she tried to process what she had just heard.

Love? _Love_? Not lust, not just a kind of liking, but the real, passionate, soul-searching love? She could deal with the different alien women he had met off-world, could have dealt with his relationship if it hadn't seemed so serious. But…_love_?

Oh, her heart had broken all right, and now the very ground she had believed to be so solid was giving way under her feet.

John must not have been completely unaware to her reaction—though he didn't seem to grasp the true reason behind her shock—because his tone had softened when he spoke again. "I know, I know. It seems random, out of the blue. But it's actually been there for a long time—I just never realized it until a little while ago. I guess you could say I was in denial, but Teyla made me see what I was trying to fight and forced me to accept it."

She wanted to say something, to make it seem as though she were comfortable with the knowledge that the man she was admittedly in love with just happened to be in love with someone else. But the right words just couldn't seem to find their way to her lips, nor could they make it past her valiant efforts to keep from crying.

"I didn't think I deserved her," he continued, and Elizabeth wasn't even sure if he was aware that she still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "That might've been the problem, but no matter how much I tried to distance myself from it all, from her, it only got worse. I still don't think I deserve her, but I just can't keep this to myself any longer."

There was a lengthy pause; he probably lost in thought over this supposedly fantastic woman, she trying hard to regain the last shreds of her dignity to find a way of easing him out the door so she could break down in peace.

Finally, the moment was shattered as he shifted closer to her on the desk, leaning down ever so slightly so that his shadow fell into her line of view.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?" She asked slowly, wondering what new blow he might deliver.

"Do you think I deserve her?"

This was it—the greatest test of their friendship—and she certainly didn't want to fail, no matter how much it would hurt. So with one final, steadying breath she brought her gaze up from the desk, fighting the burning behind her eyes, and truly looked at him. "You deserve to be happy, and if she makes you happy, then…then you deserve her."

"Somehow, I knew you'd be diplomatic about it," John laughed suddenly, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in further. "But do you mean it? Really mean it?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Of course I do."

The smile had grown to capture his face, his eyes gleaming a bright green as he searched her own. "So then, let's recap one last time on what I should say. Just so I don't forget it all and make an idiot out of myself."

He slid off the edge of her desk, turning so that his eyes didn't leave hers. "First, start off with some boring conversation, maybe about my latest mission. Since she'll only laugh at me, or lecture me, I should be prepared for a little bit of humiliation and retaliate with a few jabs of my own." His grin grew. "Check."

Holding up a finger, he went on, taking a step closer towards her chair and ignoring her narrowing gaze. "Next, mention that we need to have a talk, then bring up the subject of how grateful I am that she's in my life, how much easier it is to live here because I have her to talk to, to laugh with. Maybe even mention that she's given me a reason to wake up in the mornings, something to look forward to coming home too. Although that might be pushing it, but check anyway."

Another finger went up, and he came one step closer. "Even though we didn't go over this, I should probably tell her how beautiful she is, even when she's exhausted after pulling another all-nighter, or when she's yelling at me to keep my hands to myself. Especially though when she's being a friend no matter how late the night is, or how hard the conversation might be."

She had to take a deep breath again, but this time to settle the funny, jumpy feeling that was playing around in her stomach. Slowly but surely things were starting to click into place, but she refused to believe it just yet—refused to get her hopes up for fear of having them come crashing down again.

A third finger rose as he came just that much closer to her seat. "Check again."

Her throat constricted, but it was now entirely related to a different reason. Their conversation ran through her head as she tried to find clues that might stop her hopes from skyrocketing, to make herself realize that he wasn't insinuating anything about her but about another woman, his mystery woman.

That was stopped abruptly as he inched forward, lowering his voice to a much rougher tone that sent a shiver coursing down her spine. "Last, but not least, and no matter how forward it might be, I should tell her that I love her, that I'm in love with her, and that nothing will change it."

John was only a few inches away from her now, one hand braced against her desk to support him as he bent down towards her. Feeling decidedly warm—and growing warmer by the second under his suddenly unshakable gaze—she furiously fought the tears of relief that were threatening to fall.

"You're a cruel man, John Sheppard," Elizabeth finally managed to mutter.

He chuckled. "Took you long enough to figure out. I was afraid I'd have to yell it at the top of my lungs before it would click."

"Well, you didn't give me many clues. You weren't exactly forthcoming with information."

His hand reached out to brush away an errant curl on her forehead, tracing a gentle path down the side of her face until it cupped her cheek. "You don't really know her, the Elizabeth I know. At least, you don't realize that the amazing woman I get to work with every day, the same one who's been there for me since day one, is apart of you. You're too busy being Dr. Weir to see it."

His thumb was casually circling the sensitive skin near her temple, and it was all she could do to keep from grabbing his head and pulling him down to her. "So then, where did you get the idea that I wouldn't like the outcome of this talk?"

John shrugged, his eyes intent on hers. "I wasn't too sure if you'd feel the same way." He paused, his thumb stilled and the space between them grew smaller. "In fact, I'm still not sure."

She realized there was more than just purpose in his stance—there was hesitancy too, mirrored by the doubt in his eyes. It was actually comforting to know that he wasn't as sure about himself, that he wasn't so sure in her response as he had made it seem.

Tempted to throw him for a loop just as he had done to her, she tried to think of something witty, some kind of comment that might make him squirm for a minute more. But her mind was blank, her lips could only form three words, and she felt powerless to stop them from emerging. So she gave in to the pressure, gave in to her instinct and let the last of her defenses down.

"John," she murmured, "I love y—"

Her reply was cut off by his lips descending down on to hers, his weight suddenly pressing into her as he sought her answer on a much more physical level. The kiss was strong, demanding, insistent in its need to explore her mouth, to taste every last flavour she had hidden away. She in turn did some exploring of her own, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, angling her head for better access, amazed at her body's heated response to having the smell and feel of John surrounding her.

They pulled away, albeit reluctantly, and she found that she was having trouble breathing. As she regained some air to her deprived lungs, Elizabeth managed a smile. "You get to ramble on about how wonderful you think I am, and I don't even get a chance to say 'I love you' back. If you want this to work, you're going to have to let me do the talking sometimes."

His returning grin was tender as his hands cupped her face, his lips no more than a breath away. "You've had plenty of chances to talk me into a coma before—I haven't had many chances to kiss you. Think of it as balancing it all out."

"You've still got a long way to go before it balances, you realize."

"I'm fully aware of the work I'm going to have to do and I'm looking forward to every minute of it." To prove this point, his lips sought out and found the hollow of her throat, brushing light kisses along the inch of skin that her shirt didn't cover.

Biting back a moan, she pulled his head back up to glare at him sternly in the eye. "One thing, John. If you ever, _ever_ do that to me again, I'll make sure Carson has the largest, sharpest needle he has aimed at the most sensitive part of your anatomy the next time you come back through the 'gate."

"Hey, you promised not to lecture," he admonished her with a smirk. "And you don't have to worry. This was a one-time thing. Hell, it took me long enough to think up a way of making it sound like I was talking about someone else. And then you didn't seem to react at first, so I started wondering if maybe you really didn't feel anything more than friendly acceptance of the fact I was happily in love with someone else—that maybe I was making the stupidest mistake of my life." Dropping a kiss onto her forehead, he brought his own down to rest against hers. "Trust me, 'Lizabeth. It was just as much torture for me as it was for you."

She snorted in disbelief, still feeling tipsy from the sudden leap of being on the verge of tears to feeling as though she had hit cloud nine. "I highly doubt that. But I can think of a way you can make up for it."

"And that would be...?"

"Kiss me again, Colonel."

She saw the gleam of teeth, saw the relief and joy spring simultaneously into his glowing eyes, saw the last threads of tension drain away from his shoulders as he leaned in to comply with her demands and her last coherent thought—before John's mouth erased any mental capabilities she may have possessed—was that she was rather pleased with the overall outcome of this conversation. And that she would definitely be more open to having similar late night conversations with her second-in-command in the very, _very_ near future...

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_End_


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